


The Ones We Protect (The Ones Who Protect Us)

by Lumelle



Series: Alpha, Beta, Gamma Radiation [2]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alpha Phil Coulson, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Injury, M/M, Omega Clint, Omega Tony Stark, Possessive Behavior, Protective Phil Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony is brought down in battle, Steve thinks it couldn't be worse -- until Hawkeye is badly injured. Phil gets protective of his mate, Steve is still somewhat freaked out by alpha dynamics, and Tony is utterly unafraid no matter how much Phil growls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ones We Protect (The Ones Who Protect Us)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something to explore the differences and dynamics between alphas and omegas. This is what happened.
> 
>  
> 
> **Due to the nature of Alpha/Beta/Omega, this fic contains possessive behavior (due to instincts taking over) and implied mpreg. Please read accordingly.**

The mission started off perfectly. The worst ones always did, Steve found himself thinking with a somewhat rueful tone as it shattered around his ears. It was that perfection, the terrifying ease at the beginning of the mission, that got them too confident, too careless. One should have never been careless, he reminds himself, but it's too late to think that now, it was already too late to think that when he saw Tony get smacked out of the sky by the giant bipedal turtle like he were nothing but a particularly bright-colored fly.

It had taken all his self-control not to abandon his post and run over right then and there, instead asking for Tony over the comm link, mentally charting off each of their positions, figuring out who would be the closest to him. There was a brief, terrifying moment of silence before Tony answered, and Steve was sure his heart was going to stop.

"I'm fine," Tony's voice came in then, tinged with pain, and Steve wasn't sure if that was better or worse or the silence. "A bit beat up, but I'm all in one piece."

"And how bad is 'a bit battered up?'" Steve knew all too well Tony's tendency to brush off any concerns about his well-being, no matter how legitimate they might have been.

"Pretty sure I'll get off with nothing worse than a few bruises. The armor's pretty banged up, though." Tony threw that out like it was nothing but a minor annoyance. "I think one of my main repulsors is bust. Not sure if I can fly safely, but I can sure try."

"No." Steve frowned, not that Tony could see it. "If it's not absolutely safe, you're not flying."

"You can't bench me now, Steve. You need me in the battle. Don't try to tell me you don't."

"I don't need you to crash into something head first." Steve made sure not to let his voice waver even though his heart clenched at the mere thought. "Take the damn suit off if the temptation's too great otherwise; you're off the field if your repulsors aren't at a hundred percent."

"You think I don't know my own tech? Seriously, Cap. This is my tech. You think I don't know what it can do?"

"I think you have roughly the same level of self-preservation instincts as a particularly suicidal mayfly," Steve replied wryly. "Call in a spare suit or whatever, you're not risking your damn life on a damaged armor."

"But risking it in a functioning one is just fine?" The annoyance was clear in Tony's voice. "If you've missed it, our battles aren't exactly safe, well, ever."

"Just listen to Cap for once, Stark," Clint's voice came in through the comm. "That thing already smacked you down once, when you at least technically had full dodging ability. Without full flight control you'll fare about as well as a beer can in a frat party." Steve wasn't even going to ask.

"Even you, Merida?" Tony snorted. "Fine. Don't come crying to me when you all end up as turtle food."

Knowing Tony, he'd probably be back on field in roughly five minutes with nothing but his repulsor gloves or something equally idiotic, but Steve chose not to comment on that. There was no reason to give him any more ideas.

Forcing the niggling worry to the back of his mind, he turned his attention back to the battle. Nevertheless, it wasn't until Tony soon checked in to tell that he was out of the armor, really now Steve you're being such a stubborn bastard, oh and he was just stepping aside to see if he could fix the repulsor in time to make a grand comeback before the battle was over, that he could again breathe more or less freely.

Of course, now they still had to handle the actual battle. It was quickly going south even before losing one of their heavy hitters but hey, they'd done worse. They'd done a lot worse.

The good thing with Tony being out of the battle was that the turtle didn't have a bright, shining target flitting around its head, just begging to be attacked. It didn't really seem to have much awareness of what was going on at its feet, which was good news for Steve and Natasha, who were mainly working at ground level, hitting at its feet with all they had. Thor and Hulk kept bouncing up at the huge body, trying to get its balance off, while Hawkeye mainly provided surveillance in Tony's place, perched on a nearby building and conveying his information to the rest of the team. Steve was quite happy to leave most of the coordination work for Coulson; it left him with the time to focus on actually fighting the thing, the agent's steady voice a calming presence in his ear.

Then Thor finally got a big blow at the creature's head and it started listing, falling right toward the building Hawkeye was perched on, and the calm, steady tones gave way for a second's distressed call of, "CLINT!"

There was a moment during which nobody spoke, waiting for the rumbling noise to calm down, hoping beyond hope to hear something over the comm. Steve was already running, knowing he wasn't the only one. Even so, he wasn't the first one at the scene. Somehow Coulson had already made it there from wherever he had been hiding, climbing through the ruins, having little care for his expensive suit. His expression was as steady as ever, but for the moment his eyes met Steve's, there was a look of pure terror in them.

A moan of pain attracted both of their attention, heads whipping to its direction. Coulson rushed forward, Steve right at his feet, both equally relieved and horrified to spot Clint. He'd apparently been lucky enough not to be buried under either the turtle or the building as it fell apart, but he had fallen quite badly anyway, not having the time to get out of the danger zone. He lay very still, arm bent at an angle Steve was fairly sure couldn't be good news, his skin littered with cuts and rapidly forming bruises.

"Hawkeye," Coulson sighed, his voice now closer to normal but with a definite tone of relief. "Hawkeye, talk to me."

"Sorry… Sir." Clint's voice was hardly more than a murmur. "Don't think I'll… make the post-mission lunch…" His eyes slid closed, Steve's ears picking up the sound of labored breathing.

"Hawkeye, look at me. I haven't given you permission to close your eyes." Coulson's voice was tense. "Hawkeye. Clint!"

There was no response from the quiet archer, just the heavy breaths. Coulson's back curved, his shoulders drawing closer to his ears as he leaned over his mate.

"Agent?" Steve took a small step forward, focused on the injured Hawkeye even as he heard others gathering, heard Natasha already in the process of calling for medical assistance right away. "Agent, we need to —"

Coulson's head turned very slowly, his gaze locked on Steve, a slightly wild look in his eyes. A low growl rose from deep in his throat. "Stay away."

Steve took a step back mostly on instinct. "Agent?"

"Not a step closer." There was a cold look to Coulson's eyes, the tension clear in every line of his body. "I won't allow it."

Steve opened his mouth, meaning to protest, but another growl made him step back again. His instincts were telling him to back away, to respect another alpha's claim. Of course, if he decided to just pick Hawkeye up and carry him to the medics, Coulson probably couldn't stop him; however capable and dangerous the agent was, he was still only human. However, rankings were not solely established through physical strength, and for all that Steve had never had to give much thought to his rank before, right now his inner alpha wanted to roll over and whine rather than risk another such growl.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Tony walked up then, Tony with messy hair and his black flight suit and a rather alarming bruise on the side of his face, and Steve had never seen anything more beautiful in his life even if he couldn't help but worry as well. He waved off Steve's concerned glance, though, not hesitating one bit at walking right past him. "I mean, it's shitty enough you didn't have the decency to wait until I got my armor back up, but now you throw this at me?"

"Stay away from him," Phil growled, and Steve only barely stopped himself from reaching out and stopping Tony in his tracks. Surely not even Tony could be that self-destructive, though.

"Oh, don't you fucking try to give me that alpha crap. I'm so not interested right now." Tony frowned, invading Coulson's space without a second thought, and for a moment Steve found his heart clenching in his chest again, afraid that Tony would get hurt. Sure, Tony was a genius and a brave man in every way, but without his armor he was still just a man, one who stood no chance against one of SHIELD's most capable agents.

"Tony." Steve did his best not to sound too angry or anxious or in any way threatening. "Tony, you shouldn't —"

"Shut up, Steve." Tony knelt down next to Hawkeye, quickly looking him over. "Okay, we need med evac here and quick. The arm's definitely broken, probably a few cracked ribs as well, and I suspect that's not all of it."

"I called for medical," Natasha informed, walking closer. "They should be here in a couple of minutes."

"Great. Make sure they have enough betas and omegas on crew, Agent Agent here has gone into full-on protection mode." He jerked his head toward Coulson.

"No surprises there. It's the first time Hawkeye's been this badly hurt since they bonded." Natasha walked closer, equally unafraid as he looked Coulson in the eye, her voice level as she spoke. "Okay, Phil, listen up. We're going to get some people here, and they're going to take Clint to get patched up. You can go with him, but only if you behave. I'll make sure no other alpha goes anywhere near him, just. Stop with the growling."

For a moment Coulson stared at her, then his shoulders slumped a bit, though his body was still tense like a coiled spring. "He's hurt," he murmured. "So badly. I can't —"

"I know. And I promise you nobody else will get the chance to hurt him." There was a hard look on Natasha's face that made it clear she meant every word.

"Promise?" And all of a sudden, for all that his instincts were still screaming at him not to get a single step closer, Steve had never seen Coulson look quite so vulnerable, not even when he'd been lying in a hospital bed, practically dead, after Loki.

Frankly, that scared him almost more than Clint's unmoving figure in the middle of the rubble.

*

"Agent?" Steve paused in the corridor, looking over to where Coulson was sitting, back rigid, staring at the opposite wall with unseeing eyes. He'd hurried to the hospital after them as soon as the mission wrap-up had allowed him to, but now he wasn't sure if he should approach.

"Captain." Coulson turned to look at him, eyes tired but his expression otherwise unreadable. "I suppose I should apologize for my behavior earlier."

"Ah — no, no, don't. It's not… yeah." Steve rubbed the back of his neck, not exactly sure how to proceed. "Ah. You mind if I keep you company?" It seemed safe now, but he figured it'd be best to ask anyway.

"Not at all." The faintest of smiles curled Coulson's lips. "I promise not to go for your throat."

"Much appreciated." Steve sat in the chair next to him, letting the silence go on for a moment. "So, ah. Feeling protective?"

"I overreacted." For a moment, Coulson let his smile falter, and Steve supposed anyone else would have looked openly ashamed. "It's the first time Clint has been hurt since we bonded. This badly, at least. I really should have expected this, but instead, I let my instincts get the better of me."

"Right." Steve nodded slowly. "I'm not going to say I understand, because I don't — I mean, I get protective of Tony at times, but —"

"But it's not the same as being bonded." Coulson shook his head. "No, I know. The strength of the instinct surprised even myself. Intellectually, I knew I had to get him help, but the atavistic part of my brain only knew that he was vulnerable and I had to protect him."

"And to that part of you, another alpha is a definite threat. That's understandable. And we had Tony and Natasha there to figure everything out, so there was no harm done. Really, stop beating yourself up over it." He knew all too well that had Clint been there, he would have scoffed at Coulson's worries and told him to man up.

"Still. I almost caused him more pain because I wasn't thinking straight." Coulson made a sound somewhere between a sigh and an exasperated chuckle. "It's funny, isn't it, how omegas can bring out both the best and the worst in us."

"I suppose." Steve shrugged. "I've never seen a bonded alpha get so protective before, not like that. Not a lot of bonded pairs back in the war." And yet he could well imagine that, recognized shades of it in the way his gut clenched every time Tony was in danger. And he didn't even have that kind of a claim on Tony.

"It… happens. Generally, it's against SHIELD protocol to send a bonded pair on the same mission for this exact reason. I should have known better than to break the rules like that."

"Your place is with us, though, and so is Clint's." He touched Coulson's shoulder, only briefly, hoping it came across as more supportive than threatening. "And if anything like this ever happens again, you'll be more prepared."

"This had better not happen again." Coulson's voice dropped to a murmur, the change a true testimony to just how shaken he was.

"We won't let it." As though they could stop it without fail. "How bad is it? His arm looked rather bad."

"His arm's definitely broken, so that's it for shooting until it heals. Not that it matters much. Apparently one of his ribs cracked bad enough to puncture a lung."

"I'm sorry," Steve murmured, because there wasn't anything else he could say.

"Don't say that yet." Coulson somehow managed to take on his usual wry tone. "Be sorry when you've dealt with a few weeks of very bad patient Clint."

"We'll see about that in a few weeks." Steve paused. "My heart pretty much stopped when Tony just strode right up to you."

"Well, I suppose he would have dealt with an angry alpha or two in his life. Unless the circumstances are very special, it's usually rather safe to assume that an omega won't be taken as a threat."

"Which makes no sense whatsoever. Last month some asshole actually claimed Tony couldn't have invented all the things he has because omegas 'don't have an innate need to impress anyone' and apparently that means they're incapable of actually producing anything worthwhile." Steve shook his head. "I had to physically restrain Tony from demonstrating that certain omegas have a very strong innate need to blow things up."

"That does sound quite like him." There was a small curl of Coulson's lips, though the worry lines at the corners of his eyes weren't going anywhere. "It's strange how people make that kind of assumptions. Certainly, there are differences between alphas and omegas, but those are about how we view each other, not the world or ourselves."

"And poor betas just stare at the chaos and wonder what's going on. I know I was confused, and then even more so when the instincts first set in." It wasn't a subject he often discussed, not entirely comfortable with it around most people, but he knew Coulson had seen his files. Had seen the gender designation before and after the serum.

"That would give you an unique view of the whole process, I suppose." Coulson folded his hands together, his knuckles white. "Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier, not having to deal with these… animal instincts."

"Easier? Certainly. Better… I'm not so sure." Steve looked off into the distance. "Sure, a lot of it is impractical, even scary, when hormones and instincts try to take over from the rational parts. But other aspects of it… well. It's sometimes scary as hell, how everything in my life seems to go back to Tony, how he always seems to draw my attention no matter what, but he also gives me purpose. I feel at home with him." He paused. "Of course, the whole attention-grabbing and center of the universe thing could be just Tony."

"No, that sounds quite familiar." Coulson's eyes flickered to the direction of the operation theater. "Alphas tend to be the happiest when they find a mate."

Steve almost protested, almost pointed out that this was not it, Tony wasn't his mate and Coulson knew it. He then relaxed, remembering that this was a different time, one where it was fine to call someone your mate even if you weren't bonded.

He wondered how much more intense being bonded could be. Wondered if he'd ever get to feel that.

Wondered if he even cared, as long as he could be with Tony.

*

"So. How's bird-brain?" Tony didn't look up from where he was working on his tablet, lying on the bed in nothing but his boxers, but then it wasn't like he needed to look to know it was Steve walking in.

"He'll live." Which, really, was the most important thing. "And you?" Steve quickly shed most of his clothes, setting them aside nicely, quite unlike Tony's carelessly distributed garments on the floor.

"Told you, nothing but bruises." Though he made a rather horrifying image, with one side of his body bruised all over from where he'd been smacked from the sky, the armor unable to absorb all the damage. "Hurts like hell, but nothing I can't handle."

"That looks terrible." Steve frowned, climbing on the bed, careful not to touch Tony's bruised side. "Suppose that's nothing compared with how badly you scared me, though."

"I'd apologize, but I refuse to be sorry for something I couldn't help." Tony looked over at him. "So how bad was he?"

"Broken arm. Cracked ribs. Punctured lung. He'll probably be just fine, but the recovery time is going to be interesting."

"You don't say." Tony sighed, setting his tablet aside. "But hey, could've been worse. The turtle could have come down on his head."

"That's a frightening thought, true though it is." Steve reached out to touch the unharmed side of Tony's face. "It didn't, though. He fell badly but he'll heal."

"We all will." Tony shuffled closer. "We took the monster turtle down, and while it did break a building the evacuation and fight went well, and even though I'm a bit banged up and Hawkass will soon be driving us all out of our collective minds, it's still mission successful."

"Right. Mission successful." Not mission perfect, but then no mission ever truly was, and Tony was still as beautiful as ever even with his bruises and hopefully Coulson would be able to catch some sleep now that they knew Clint would be all right eventually. Mission successful.

And if the alpha in the back of his mind insisted on drawing Tony close, very carefully, and burying his face in Tony's hair to draw in the scent of his mate… well, he supposed he could indulge just this once.


End file.
